


Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

by lornrocks



Series: Wall Conjecture [3]
Category: Fandom: Heroes
Genre: Dreamworld, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Slash, floorsecks, i don't remember, ohwell, possibleooc, season4, sort of, thewall, written before the wall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 05:57:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lornrocks/pseuds/lornrocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter goes into Sylar's mind to rescue him. Things take an unexpected turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

Peter didn't really have a plan when he went inside Sylar's mind. He figured it would be easy. Of course, he was wrong. He wanders the empty streets methodically, calling out every so often.

He's about to give up when he hears a shaky answer from around the corner. Easing into a sprint, Peter rounds the building and almost bumps into Sylar, who holds up a hand reflexively, even though his powers don't work in the dreamworld.

"Peter?" he asks, bewildered. He looks a mess. His hair is disheveled and he's hunching into his rumpled coat.

"Sylar, I'm going to get you out of here," Peter tries to explain, but Sylar's uneasy face morphs into a smile.

"There's no getting out of here, Peter." His voice caresses the other man's name with reverence, in the same weird way that it always has. Normally, Peter would think it was just him being condescending, but given the circumstances, he genuinely believes it to be care.

"I've been trying to get out of here for three years. There's no way out."

"Three years? It's been three hours."

At Peter's confession, Sylar's face falls back into disbelief.

"I don't understand."

The former killer looks so pitiful that Peter can't help but reach up and squeeze his shoulder. At first, Sylar flinches, but after a second, leans into the touch.

"Let's find someplace warm to talk," he soothes, and Sylar nods once before following Peter into some coffee shop. Of course, no one else is there. There isn't anyone anywhere. Sylar had searched, walking for days on end, yelling until he thought he'd go crazy from hearing his own voice.

In this dream world, you didn't need to sleep, or eat, or do anything else real bodies need. You just...were.

Once the two were inside, Peter not too gently led Sylar to a couch, where he pushed him down. Satisfied that the other man was now comfortable, Peter took a seat on the couch next to him.

"So we can assume that one year here is equivalent to one hour in the real world," Peter begins, and then doesn't wait for Sylar to agree. "So I'd say we have a couple months, our time, to get out of here."

Sylar, who was too busy staring at Peter to make sure he wasn't hallucinating, nodded his understanding. He thought he might have been sneaky about it, but obviously he wasn't, because Peter's lips quirked into a smile.

"I am real, you know," he quips, and to prove it, lifts Sylar's hand up and places it against his cheek.

"See?"

Peter's skin seems to buzz underneath Sylar's fingertips. He lets his hand linger for a moment before dropping it.

"Yeah, I see." He looks to the side for a moment before shifting his eyes back to look at the man sitting next to him. "I'm glad."

Peter's smile stays, which is good. Sylar's not sure if he can stand getting rejected by the one person keeping him company, at least not right now.

They try to formulate a plan, but for the most part, they have nothing.

"We gotta get out of this place," Peter laments, leaning against the back of the couch.

"If it's the last thing we ever do," Sylar agrees, and for some reason, that seems funny to him. He laughs.

Peter looks at him quizzically, but shrugs it off.

"You know, when I found you, Matt was hiding you behind a brick wall in his basement."

A scoff.

"How very... _macabre_ of him."

Peter glances at his watch.

"It seems like I've been here for hours, but it's probably only been a few seconds in the real world."

Sylar nods in agreement and leans back against the couch with Peter. Their shoulders brush, but he doesn't move.

"Hey, Peter, what's to stop Parkman from just sealing you behind that wall with me?" he asks.

"I think my decomposing body would start to give off a horrible smell. Someone would notice," he jokes, even though the thought has crossed his mind. He likes to think his old friend would never do something that horrible. Of course, that was before he came downstairs and caught him trying to trap another human being forever inside his own personal hell. Things have changed.

"Maybe I'll wake up and start making noise so someone can get us out," Peter muses, and earns a light chuckle in response.

"Like a cat?"

"Well I do wear a lot of black."

They sit in amused silence for awhile. The sun's going down, but since they don't need to sleep, they lapse into quiet conversation. Mostly they talk about how to get out, ideas on that matter, and what's going on with the carnival. Peter tells Sylar about the dream he had, which seems to lift the other man's spirits considerably.

When the sun comes out, they start walking, trying to find something that could help them find their way out. When it's too dark to see, they find someplace to sit down and talk.

The next few weeks pass the same way. Slowly, they start to become more comfortable talking with each other, and soon the topics become more and more casual. Sometimes they share stories about their childhoods, sometimes they ask each other questions that one might find on an application for one of those dating sites (questions like "What are your hopes and dreams?" and other cliches), but a lot of the time they just talk about whatever's on their mind.

Once, they pass by a discarded radio on the street. Peter turns it on and is amused to hear a familiar song.

"I love this song!" he exclaims, and Sylar can't help but laugh at his enthusiasm.

"I didn't peg you for a Bon Jovi fan," he kids, and joins the very loud sing along that seems to have commenced.

Halfway through "Livin' on a Prayer", the radio dies and Peter's horrible out of key caterwalling gets worse. He stops abruptly and the blood immediately flushes into his cheeks.

"Oops," he says simply, prompting them both to start laughing again.

"You know, given the circumstances, I'd say this hasn't been such a bad deal. Sure we're stuck in a nightmare world in your head with little chance of escape, but it could be worse," Peter smiles encouragingly and Sylar nods.

"We could have beaten each other up again," he agrees, and they walk in silence for a while.

Soon it's dark and they slip inside an old art gallery. They put their coats down on the wood flooring, and Peter goes in search of something they can use as pillows. He finds some cushions from chairs and they form a small pile on the floor. Settling down, they talk quietly about their plans for the next day. The conversation runs into a stop and Peter stares at the ceiling in the darkness, letting his thoughts wander.

Quietly, Sylar whispers, "I don't know why you're being so nice to me, Peter. I've killed so many people." There's a weird pause where it sounds like Sylar might be swallowing or gulping, and then he continues. "I've killed so many people I've lost count. Hundreds of innocent people."

"Sylar," Peter begins, but gets interrupted.

" _I'm a monster._ "

Peter turns his head so he's facing Sylar.

"You're no more responsible for your actions than someone who's been abused is for killing their abuser," he tries, but Sylar shakes his head back and forth violently.

"No, I can't keep using that excuse. That's how this whole problem started. Claire told me that I was using my powers as an excuse for my behavior, and she's right. I enjoy killing."

The silence that follows is disquieting and Sylar shifts nervously. He's afraid Peter is going to leave, and that would be...unbearable.

"You're a good person," Peter whispers, and his voice holds so much conviction and emotion that Sylar can't help but believe him.

"I used to think that, that you were a monster, but these past few weeks-"

"-Months. We've been here for three months."

"-These past few months, I think I've gotten to know you better. And I think it has been for the better. You're a good person, and deep down inside, you have a good heart. You just need someone who will care about you and love you and not leave you."

Peter can swear Sylar's eyes are shinier than usual, but he doesn't say anything. A beat goes by before Sylar replies with a quiet "Thank you."

Staring at the ceiling, Peter can feel the warmth of Sylar's body through their touching shoulders, and deciding that it's now or never, he rolls to his side, places a hand behind Sylar's ear, and brings their mouths together.

The man under him has gone rigid, not returning the kiss, so Peter pulls away.

"Peter, you don't have to..." Sylar begins, but Peter places a finger across his lips.

"Do I really look like the type of person who would say or do something I don't mean? Especially after a speech like that?" He can't help smiling as he leans his face back down. This time, Sylar kisses back with so much need that Peter actually moans.

Swinging his leg over, he straddles Sylar and is met with a bruising grip on his hips, so he pushes back against him and is met with a muffled groan. Peter manages to pull away long enough to pull his shirt off and toss it aside. Smiling down, he runs a hand through Sylar's chest hair and asks breathlessly, "Will you make love to me?"

Sylar's dark eyes are searching his face, trying in vain to read the other man's face through the darkness.

"Do you really want to?" he asks.

Peter moves back down so their chests were touching, just barely letting their lips touch before replying, "Yeah, I do."

Sylar hesitates for a moment before rolling them over so he's on top. He reaches down and starts to undo the fastenings on Peter's jeans, followed by his own, and once they're both divested of their clothing, he sits back so he's resting on his knees.

"Roll over," he prompts, and Peter gladly rolls on to his own hands and knees. Sylar's not really sure why, in the dreamworld, they can do something like have sex, but not have to eat. It's baffling, but right now, his main thoughts are on the burning body below him.

"You have the most perfect ass I've ever seen," Sylar praises, and Peter chuckles.

"Thanks-" he's cut off as Sylar slides a finger inside of him. "Oh, fuck. Oh God."

His head slumps forward as Sylar's long, elegant fingers continue sliding in and out of him, stretching and filling him. The slight scratch of stubble burns against his shoulder as Sylar's mouth peppers kisses behind his ear and down his neck.

"Sylar," Peter groans, and the man in question pulls his fingers out.

With little fanfare, Sylar pushes inside of Peter and earns a hum of approval.

"You feel so good," Peter moans, voice practically dripping with arousal, and Sylar takes the encouragement to keep going.

"I swear," he says, between pants of air, "I could come right now, just seeing you open and needy below me." He accentuates his point with a hard slam of his hips, and Peter ends up sinking down on to his elbows.

His face is pressed into his forearms, but he manages mumble, "Fuck, faster," and Sylar obliges, reaching around to palm at Peter's cock.

Peter responds by pushing his hips back against Sylar's and letting a sensual whine escape from his lips. He lifts his hips and stills when one of Sylar's thrusts hit somewhere inside him that causes him to feel buzzy all over.

"Yeah, right there," he groans, and Sylar's warm breath ghosting over the back of his ear is driving him crazy.

"Talk dirty to me," he pleads, and Sylar's velvety voice sounds a little strained but otherwise replies with the filthiest things Peter can imagine.

"You like my cock inside you, don't you Peter? Stretching you out, filling you. You feel so good, I'm going to fill you up completely. Is that what you want, Peter?"

Peter, who was biting his arm, groans and turns his head to kiss at the corner of Sylar's mouth.

"I love you," he chokes out, and comes all over Sylar's hand.

Peter's words are too much, and Sylar follows with a low moan. They sit still for a moment before Sylar gently pulls out and lets Peter roll back on to his back. Looking down at him, he runs his clean hand through Peter's hair.

"I love you too, Peter." He leans down and kisses the other man gingerly. Pulling away, he settles down so he's laying with his head on Peter's chest, and Peter reaches out and twines their hands together.

"I would do anything for you," Sylar whispers, and Peter's other hand, which is currently rubbing circles on the back of his neck, stills.

"I think I know how to get out of here."

As soon as it's daylight, they head out in search of a brick wall, and after a few days of searching, they find it in some back alley, near a loading dock. It takes them an hour or two to locate some sledgehammers, but then they're ready.

Hours of fruitless labor proves pointless. Sylar leans against the wall in defeat.

"It's no use," he says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Peter goes to stand in front of him.

"We can't give up. Gabriel, we have to do this, we have to get out of here. You need to stop Samuel, and save those people, and after that, we can move on to other things. Better things."

Sylar looks at Peter with sad eyes, but something in Peter's determined expression makes him feel a little better. He moves closer.

"You think we can do this?" he asks.

"We have to try."

Peter cranes his neck up and plants a kiss on the other man before moving to pick the sledgehammer back up. Sylar's concentrating so hard he feels his head might explode, but in a flash, the wall starts to crumble, and things start to go black.

When he reopens his eyes, he's leaning against a wall behind a brick wall that's up to his neck. Peter's slouched over the top, one hand resting against his face. Peter's eyes start to flutter open, and when he sees Sylar's eyes open, smiles broadly.

Summoning his telekinesis, Sylar pushes the bricks away and steps out, only to be met by a loud "Hey!"

They turn and are met with a very angry Matt Parkman.

Looking between the ex-cop and Peter, Sylar realizes that the two of them are locked into some sort of weird telepathic battle for control. He holds up his hand and pushes Parkman against a wall.

"Get away from him," he snarls, and Matt looks absolutely bewildered.

"Peter, what the hell happened in there?" he asks, but must have been looking for the answer in Peter's mind, because all of a sudden his eyes go wide.

"You didn't! Peter, how could you- he's a monster!" Matt tries to fight Sylar's TK but can't.

"No, Matt. How could you? You were willing to lock him up in that hell for all eternity without a second's thought. That's not who you used to be." Peter's head shakes sadly. "We're going to stop Samuel whether you like it or not."

"No!" Matt gives one more shove with his telepathy before he's released from the wall. He looks around, but Peter and Sylar are nowhere to be seen. He realizes all too late that they were long gone, since Sylar used some illusion power to trick Matt into letting them escape.

He swears and punches the wall, wincing as blood dribbles down his knuckles.

He will stop Sylar if it kills him, he decides. Someone has to.

**Author's Note:**

> Written forever ago on LJ.


End file.
